Dishes
by The 1000th Kiss
Summary: Roger won't do the dishes and Mark is sick of it. Totally random stab at humor. Rated for some swears and 'cause it's RENT. Read and review, please!


**Can you say RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANDOM? Go ahead. Try it. :-P**

**I own nothing! And that's all I'm gonna say.**

Mark woke up on the old, beat up couch. He'd fallen asleep there hours ago. As he sat up, he realized his camera was in his arms. He rubbed his eyes, stood up, and headed to his bedroom. Then he saw it. A sink full of dirty dishes. It was Roger's turn to do the dishes, but, once again, he hadn't. He just left them in the sink as always. Mark placed his camera on the couch (in fear that he'd throw it out of anger), stormed over to the sink, and made dishwater. He washed each dish he picked up with so much force he was sure he would break them.

_Why can't he be more like Collins? Sure, he's high half the time, but at least he does the fucking dishes when he's supposed to! "Tired from doing the show tonight" my ass!_

Mark turned and glared at Roger's bedroom door as he washed a large kitchen knife. When he turned back to the sink, he stared at the knife and realized that he was doing Roger's job _again._ He threw the dishrag in the water and quickly walked toward Roger's room, slamming the knife on the counter as on the way. He slowly opened the door and glared at the sleeping rocker. He'd had enough. He walked over to the bed and laid next to his friend. Tonight was the night Roger Davis was going to face the wrath of Mark Cohen.

Mark stared at the ceiling and occasionally glanced at the digital clock on Roger's night stand for about thirty-five minutes before the rocker turned over in his sleep.

"Roger Davis, you didn't do the dishes!" Mark shouted. Roger jolted awake at the sound of Mark's voice and nearly fell off of his bed.

"Why are you in my bed?" Roger asked, completely disoriented.

"You _did not _do the dishes! The dishes are still dirty! The dishes are _not _done!"

"What time is it?"

"It's 2:44 a.m. and the dishes are dirty! You've betrayed my trust, Roger!"

"God, am I dreaming?"

"You've broken my trust and now it's lying on the ground shattered in a million pieces!"

"I _have _to be dreaming."

"Oh no, Roger, this is real life! And I hope you realize the damage you've done to our relationship!"

"Mark-"

"I don't ask you for much, do I?" Mark interrupted. There was a silence.

"No," Roger finally said.

"And, as a roommate, is not reasonable for me to expect you to clean up after yourself?"

"I guess so, but-"

"And yet you _haven't _been doing so!"Mark interrupted. "You've completely failed at your task, Roger Davis!" Mark got up and walked out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Roger called after him. Mark suddenly returned carrying the kitchen knife he'd put on the counter before entering the rocker's room. Roger's eyes widened. "Mark-"

"This is a knife, Roger!" Mark shouted. He walked toward Roger, holding the knife above his head. "This is a knife that _you _used and _I _cleaned! Collins cleans the silverware and dishes _he _uses, but I _always _have to clean up after _you! _Does that seem _fair_ to you?"

"No," Roger replied, on the verge of tears.

"No, it does _not!" _Mark used his free hand to grab Roger by the collar of his shirt. He then dragged him out of his room, over to the sink, and pointed to a random dish. "Wash that!" Roger quickly picked up the dishrag and the plate that Mark had pointed at and began scrubbing it. "Wash that plate!"

"I'm washing it as fast as I can!" Roger exclaimed.

"Now, rinse and dry it!" Mark demanded. Roger did as he was told. He then froze. "PUT IT AWAY!"

"Okay, okay!" Roger quickly put the plate where it belonged.

"Now, I'm going to bed! And if those dishes aren't done when I come back out here, you're gonna have hell to pay! Do you understand?"

"Yes!"

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"I UNDERSTAND!"

"Good." Mark put the knife down next to the sink and disappeared into his room as a traumatized Roger continued to wash the dishes.

* * *

><p><strong>A FEW YEARS LATER...<strong>

Collins sat on the armchair next to couch with Angel on his lap. Mark was winding up his camera. There were glasses and plates on the coffee table. Angel got up from her lover's lap, collected all the dirty dishes, and took them over to the sink. She noticed the dishes were already piled up.

"Mark, honey, do you want me to help with these dishes?" she asked.

"It's okay, Angel," Mark told her. "They'll get done." Angel shrugged and went back to her place on Collins' lap. It was then that Roger and Mimi walked into the loft.

"Hey, chica," Angel greeted Mimi.

"Hey, Rog," Collins greeted Roger.

"Hey," both Roger and Mimi replied.

"Hey, Roger, it's your turn to do the dishes," Mark said, not bothering to look at the rocker. Roger's eyes widened and he practically ran to the sink to wash the dishes.

"Why is he always in such a rush to do the dishes?" Collins asked Mark. "I remember a time when he didn't do 'em at all." Mark glanced at Roger, who was frantically trying to find a dishrag, and smirked.

"I guess he just turned into a neat freak or something," he said.

**Review my randomness please.**


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